Her Favorite Time of The Day
by jmkw
Summary: Just a short angsty drabble about closing time now that Max is gone.


Disclaimer: Don't own them.....but what fun I could have.... ===============================================================

It was usually her favorite time of day at the bar. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the imaginary chill in the room. Oh, the temperature was fine. In fact, she tried to tell herself it was down right stuffy the dark, smoky room.  
  
Closing time was always their time. Some days they would play pool and discuss the day's events. Other's they'd just share a silent drink before a kiss good night and a _"take it easy sweetheart."  
_  
Those days were over.  
  
"Hey, I'm going out the back, you wanna lock up after me?" The night manager yelled out to her. She gave a jaunty salute good night, thankful to finally be alone...  
  
"Alone," she chuckled mirthlessly before resting her head on the glossy bar.  
  
For a moment she stared down its length. Spotless. _"You don't have to worry Jordan there are good people working here....."  
_  
"Out-damn-standing people Dad" she bit out sarcastically.  
  
She toyed with the idea of knocking a few balls around the table before calling it a night but she couldn't muster the interest. Instead she reached for a bottle...any bottle would do at this point. With two fingers or liquor she went it search of the table...The one in the back. Her boot heals echoed on the parquet floor, reminding her of just how alone she was.  
  
Why did she care anyway? He had lied to her all her life. It was because of him she had more questions than answers. It was because he couldn't let go that she couldn't. If he were only stronger....If she were only...  
  
Would it have been different if she were born a boy?  
  
He named her Jordan for Christ sake. A boy's name. He never put her in a dress. She had worn boy's underwear until she could shop for herself. Would he have tried to shelter her as much if she were his son...or would he have just given her away...?  
  
The problem was she did care. Even through the lies. Even through the misguided mistrust. He was all she truly had left.....Only now he was gone too.  
  
Where? Was he someplace sunny, someplace cold....Was there somebody there to find his glasses when he lost them?  
  
She couldn't help but think it would have been more preferable if he had died. Then she would at least have some finality. Now all she had was an empty house and a stuffy bar.  
  
"I should just sell this place," she said to herself. "I don't need the headache. I work all damn day only to come here and work all night."  
  
Each day she waited. For a phone call, a letter, a fax...anything to telling her he was fine and on his way home. Day after day, week after week there was nothing.  
  
Tracking him would be easy. One smile, one favor, one bold face plea and Nigel would have an address in her palm within minutes. There was one thing that stood in her way every time she'd begin to ask. He never tracked her down to drag _her_ home.  
  
He had more connections then she ever dreamed of. A friend here, a favor owed there. Maybe he did keep an eye on her all those years, all those times. For all she knew he could have been two steps behind her every step of the way...waiting for her to fall, so he could be there to pick her back up again. Maybe he was, if not physically then mentally. Just a phone call away....but she never called. She had told herself it was easier for him that way. Who the hell was she kidding? Was this what it was like when she was gone? A stagnated limbo of staring at the phone all day and the door all night...No, he had a life. He had a job to lose. He had Evelyn....  
  
...He had litigation as a direct result of her obsession waiting for him...  
  
_"I love you Jordan and that is all that matters..."  
  
_Tossing back the last of her drink she thought to herself she didn't deserve that love. Maybe if she were a better daughter. Someone he could be proud of. It was her selfishness that drove him away. It was all her fault. If only she could've let go.  
  
Woody was right. She's like an alcoholic, waking up each day for that scrap of information, a new lead...some kind of closure. What then? What if it all ended tomorrow? Where would her next drink come from? He had tried to tell her for years to back off, to move on, to forget about it...that her obsession would only destroy her. Had it destroyed him? She knew it was as sure as the Sox's were cursed, her compulsion had destroyed....them.  
  
Rinsing out her glass, she locked up...only to surface again, twenty four hours later, at closing time, sitting at the bar....  
  
"Hey, I'm going out he back, you wanna lock up after me?" She poured herself a drink and nodded to the night manager before finding a table...the one in the back....watching the door....  
  
_"You'll be alright Jordan...."_  
  
"You just neglected to tell me how Dad," she toasted, letting the cycle begin again. ======================================================

Just a short dabble. It's been forever since I've posted anything. I'm totally out of practice.


End file.
